


Writing collections

by Fercurrentlywriting



Category: Writer - Fandom
Genre: Inspiration, Murder, Mystery, Oceans, Original work - Freeform, Other, People, Realization, There is violence on the second chapter, Writing, article, just write, let your mind speak, methaphor, original - Freeform, pouring my thoughts, prompt, trigger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-10-08 17:06:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10391685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fercurrentlywriting/pseuds/Fercurrentlywriting
Summary: Hi! This is a collection of works, all of these are original ideas. This will be the place where you will be able to know my style and ideas. Please give it a try!





	1. People are like oceans.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and happy reading!

Imagine you get into an ocean.

When you get into it, you don’t know what you will find. You do it with confidence, with easiness.

Met by the softness of the sand. It caresses your ankles, feet, and calf. It comes and goes, the water warm and calm.  
Welcoming, inviting. However, you can also be met by sharp edges of rocks, legs getting hurt as you go deeper, water cold and forcing you out. Out. Out. Not welcome here.

Some people would stop there. They have gathered enough information… done. They don’t need more. The ones who dare, like you right now, noticed how the water keeps getting stronger and colder or even softer and warmer.

Reaching a point where all oceans are the same. It doesn’t matter how harsh and violent. They both seem different worst and better, better and worst. What matters, is the way the water is almost engulfing you. When did you get so deep? This is the moment to go back, the last chance you have to get back. Feet are still full touching the sand, but body almost underwater.

It is the scariest sensation, and then you see it. Movement. Colors. So wonderful and so alive. It almost becomes overwhelming. All around are fish, with bright colors and big eyes. Bubbles coming out of their mouths. Sharks with blank eyes, teeth full on display, clearly giving a warning not to mess with them. Plants so green Picasso would cut his other ear to find paint like that. Sounds all around; birds, waves crashing against rocks, dolphins and seaweed wrapping around your ankles.

Suddenly, everything starts getting darker and the sound dies out. You´re under. Full, head to toes underwater. The color is still present but in a dull way. It is like your looking through a filter.

Deep and deep, every step getting you deeper. Maybe it will never end. Nevertheless, you keep going and curious to see what the darkness hides. Finally… you discovered it. Creatures so horrible they should only belong in nightmares. Fangs, white eyes, tentacles, claws. Fear freezes you, turning your ice to ice. When you look back, all you see is darkness. No way out.

You´re so scared, you almost missed… is that light? Why would there be light? How can something so horrible can have something so pure? You need to find out and keep walking even when it gets harder with every step. You noticed the sudden loss of air. How could you have not noticed the burn of your lungs? You have reached the end of the road.

Obviously, there is only one road to take. Everything around you starts to move. Is like going backward. No air. Darkness. Life. Colors. Warm. Cold. Rocks. You´re back at the shore. It all seems different now. All you can do is stare. Stare and wonder how just one thing can hide so much.

People are like oceans.

Sweet and soft, inviting you in, luring to go deeper. Sharp at the edges, you almost expect to see them surrounded by thorns and fire but it is only a no trespassing sign. Get away. Can you blame them? Think for a second about you, are you really showing the real you? Everybody does it. It is a safe way of going out to the world. If we introduce us without any defenses we will literally get destroyed. Of course, they range in a large variety. Again, like oceans. There are calm and rough but no matter what they looked like, you respect them. Without exception.

People who are not brave enough to get in will see just the outside and believed that there is all there is to see.

Is it calm? Are you happy? Good for you.

Is it a chaos? Are you sad? Well, your problem.

There will be people who will want more. They will gain confidence, love, and happiness. They will know your secrets, your wrongs, and rights, people who will get through your defenses and go beyond.

They will learn. Learn you´re not only calm or sharp. There is so much more. So much more beauty beyond the surface.

Then, there are the people. In some cases only one or two, in others more. Someone who will actually be willing to know the bad and the ugly, without boundaries. Ready to meet the monster underneath appearances. We all have those secrets we have only said aloud once or maybe twice. Secrets so horrible…no matter what you do, will always haunt you. Will always be the monster under your bed. Some of them painful enough to keep you awake at night. It is why you hide them. Who would like to see them? Who is willing to share that kind of pain? However, you let them in to show them what lies there. Battlefield scars, deformities, screams.

Then, you know you made the right decision; yes, they can truly see you. They see the light, the one you believed forever lost. The hope you believed had died a long time ago. That´s the people you should keep close. Because, when they go out of the ocean they are not afraid. They are amazed. The ones not worth it will get scared and run away.

People are like the oceans.

We show what we want to hide what it is inside. How can you know I was talking about two oceans? I never mentioned a number. Maybe we are all act different around other people. Maybe we are violent with the people who have placed all those horrible pieces underneath. Maybe we are all pretending to be someone we are not.

People are like oceans.

There will always be an uncovered part… like the bottom of the ocean but... who knows? Maybe the bottom of the ocean is full of a bright light.


	2. Victim identified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find an article detailing a murder. You can not stop reading it. At the end it all makes sense. Just. Keep. Reading.

“…multiple bruises and lacerations along legs and arms…. The victim was heading back home after leaving friend's house few blocks, away according to…”

  
My god. How is it possible that the most advanced species on Earth can do so much harm to another of their own? Kill them? Torture them? And for what? Fun?

  
You can´t keep from cringing and recoiling into yourself while you scroll down the article detailing the murder of a girl. The more you read the more you get terrified for a reason that you do not fully know.

  
According to the article, she was 19, so young. So full of life. And now, it over. What freaks you out the most is that the place she was found… just around the corner of your own house. Horrifyingly close. She was left out in the streets like a bag of trash. Like she meant nothing to anything to anyone. If it weren't for the neighbor´s call none would have found her.

  
“…. It appears that Jane Doe was being harassed by a group of individuals when she put on a fight, then she got beaten with what appears to be a bat leaving her completely unrecognizable…”

  
A shiver runs through your body.

  
Pam! the bat comes down. Your arm hurts... bones breaking. You can actually hear the bone cracking. The bat comes down again.

  
Pam! Pain. Pain all around you. Consuming. Burning.

  
Your eyes dart away from the screen. It is too much for you, too many details, too much familiarity. But you can not stop reading.

  
Jane Doe, whoever she is, got beaten up to the point where dental records are necessary to be able to know who she is. Her face is completely gone. The smile that everyone commented belong in an advertisement. The pointed nose. The mole on her cheek. Gone. All of it.

  
You can not even begin to imagine what it is like. Two parents somewhere noticing her daughter hasn´t arrived home late at night, getting a call and being informed that a body has been found but they it isn´t recognizable. Getting the dental records and realizing that the purple and red plump lying in the morgue inside a freezer is her daughter. Their sweet little baby.

  
Taking a long breath you allow yourself into relaxing, With your eyes closed, you realize something. There is a strong smell of flowers all around you. It doesn't bring you happiness like they are supposed to do. They leave you anxious. Why does your house smell so much like them?

  
Reaching for the keyboard you notice something else. Your hand, wrist, and forearm are covered in cuts and bruises. You cannot even remember how you got them. Shaking your head you go back to the article.

  
“…the murder was notified by neighbors, reporting screaming down the streets…”

  
You feel irrationally proud of Jane Doe. She went down with a fight. Good. No one should accept their murder with open arms. In fact, that is your motto. You fight. No matter what. You fight until the very day you are dead.

  
There are not any kind of photos in the article. You need one, even though you know is morbid to do so. It is just something inside you. It is anxiety engulfing your mind, body, and soul with every moment that passes, you realize you are desperate to see a picture.

   
“…near the crime scene, a backpack was found. There was not any kind of ID that could help the police recognize the body…”

  
You shuffle into your seat, wincing at the unexplained pain shooting up your legs at the change of position. You bit your bottom lip at the description of your bag. Black, shiny material, a pink binder inside full of math notes. The taste of blood startles you. Closing your eyes your mind go to a bag that matches the description perfectly. No. Stop. You're being paranoid. It cannot be.

  
“...no one knows how many people assaulted the victim nor their identities. Police are investigating the images provided from security cameras on the street…”

  
Of course, this is not a fairy tale. The assholes just beat her up, killed her and then let her rotting in the middle of the streets.  
“…murder weapon was found a few blocks away still covered in blood… no handprints…”

  
Dark. Street. Voices. Hands on you. You scream. Pam! Pam! Pam! Pam!

  
Help, please! Someone! Just stop! Don´t touch me! Please!

  
Silence.

  
You reached the end of the article. There it is. The title catches your eye immediately.

  
“Victim killed with bat finally identified”

  
You click it.

  
On the screen, there is a photo of the body.

  
Dread fills you as your eyes settle in the picture. A plump bloody body-like lying on the floor. The black backpack lying near her hand. It looks almost as if she was trying to reach for it. The phone was stashed in one of the hidden pockets. Under the bars wraps she hates to carry but can´t seem to remember to throw them away.

  
You don’t need to keep reading the article. Looking at down at your legs… covered in cuts. Bloody jeans.

  
Suddenly everything makes sense. The smell of flowers.

  
Why the article caught your attention. Why you could not stop reading.

  
Why you would be able to solve the problems in those notes. Why would you be able to know that Jane Doe did not finish her homework because she spent all afternoon signing with her friend. Why she fought back.

  
At the end you do it. You do what you could do. You stop. Stop scrolling. Stop reading.

  
You don’t need the police report saying how the parents of that poor girl reacted at the new. How they had to wait another pair of days to know if it was really her.

  
You don’t need the results of the dental records.

  
Just looking at the picture you know enough. You recognize the floral shirt, the same your aunt gifted you on your last birthday. You recognize the ripped jeans that your mother keeps telling you looks like you took them out of a trash can.  
You know who Jane Doe is.

  
Because it is you.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys! This is an idea I got from shareasimage.com prompt "You stumble across an article online detailing a brutal murder. There are pictures of the victim. It is you."
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed as much as I did while writing it.  
> Please feel free to send any kind of prompts. I write about all fandoms too.  
> See you soon! Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Feel free to review, comment or make any suggestions.


End file.
